


Catnip and Other Drugs

by ratchet_intellectual



Category: Avengers (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Angst, Dubious consent because of sex pollen, Emotions and feelings and shit, M/M, Random Wakandans, Sex Pollen, T'Challa has morals, everyone is confused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 06:23:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7673452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratchet_intellectual/pseuds/ratchet_intellectual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>T'Challa is hit with a mysterious powder during battle that makes him crave the object of his deepest desires. Sam just wanted to go to bed. In the moment it was bliss but now they have to deal with the emotional aftermath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catnip and Other Drugs

**Author's Note:**

> There needs to be more fics for this couple. It also has a bunch of different Avengers in it. Also idk why but there is like one or two silly lines in the "porn" part that I couldn't resist adding. Bare with me and I hope y'all enjoy it.

The team consisted of Iron Man, Captain America, Ms. Marvel, and the Black Panther against some low rate technician who had stolen the Alchemy gun from SI. The villain was currently changing the concrete to various precious metals. He also had a small legion of flying robots who were making themselves busy with scraping up the newly created material.

“Hey genius, why didn't you just turn the shit you have in your crappy studio apartment into gold?” Tony goaded from the sky, taking out some robots with repulsors. The technician, who was calling himself something T'Challa didn't care to catch, cried at the sky while shooting the beam haphazardly.

“It's an art statement! Turning the institution of economic control into gold for the people? It's beautiful!” His canvas was inside the main lobby of one of SI’s buildings in upstate New York. The roof and front of the building were blown off and the dozens of robots were starting to sprawl into the streets, carrying the treasure off and terrorizing the employees as they fled the building.

“I'm glad that you consider SI an institution. I like to believe that it's economic dominance makes it more of a force but I like the sound of institution. Makes it seem more infallible.” Tony replied.

This served to only enrage the villain and prompted him to change the barrel in the Alchemy gun. The new setting sprayed acid at the building, melting the material into liquid pools. T'Challa and the others unknowingly shared an internal groan.

“Tony shut up and shoot.” Ms. Marvel said, blasting the robots while trying to preserve the structural integrity of the building. Captain America’s shield was flying and cracking metal.

T'Challa disarmed one robot who cornered a woman in an expensive pant suit. “Ma'am I need you to move down this street until you see SHIELD agents. You don't have to be quiet but move.”

“Black Panther, that's the last civilian on the battlefield.” Captain America reported. “ I will give you an opening in ninety seconds I need you in front of him and ready to jump on my command. Iron Man, let SHEILD know that you are about to deploy an EMP in two minutes. Ms. Marvel fly up and get a constant stream of hits to create a perimeter about two miles out. Don't worry about the gold, just make sure no robots go out the perimeter. They don't seem to be able to fly higher than twenty feet off the ground. And sorry Iron Man but you are losing a building.”

Tony shrugged.

“I never was a fan of this branch anyway. Too much carpet.”

“Black Panther: the countdown has began. Get to the target and stay out of that spray. You can get up and personal with him once you get the shot.”

T'Challa gave an affirmative grunt and jumped over robots to run to the technican. He mentally counted down and right at the end of ninety seconds, true to his word the Captain’s shield crashed into the villain’s hand and knocked the gun out of his hand. The acid went flying in the other direction away from the building before hitting a piece of diamond concrete. T'Challa was there on time and was able to get into the villain’s face and knock the man down.

With a flurry of punches, the technician was battered but not out. He clearly had some type of drug or enhancement because no normal human could ever take direct blows of that magnitude from the Black Panther. Behind them the building started to crumble. He laughed in T'Challa's face.

“You think that simple gun is all I have? SI didn't hire me for nothing.” He hit T'Challa with some type of buzzer in his hand that was suppose to send shocks up his body but he was protected by the vibranium layer of his suit.

“You should try harder.” T'Challa said as he hit him with a right hook. The man’s face was starting to be a bloody mess but he still found a way to push through it and fight back.

“Okay, why don't I show you something else I've been working on Cat man.” T'Challa really wanted to slit his throat then because the only person who could call him anything cat related was Sam.

But his thoughts were interrupted by a brown spray being shot at his uniform and the sound of dozens of drone sized robots hitting the floor. T'Challa tried to moved back but it was too late. He was hit all over but the suit was perfectly fine; the technician was left staring.

“Try again.” T'Challa said as Ms. Marvel came to knock the man out while he was distracted.

“Nice work Black Panther. No casualties and minimum damage.” T'Challa looked back at the completely demolished building with dead robots littering the streets and the gaping holes in the ground were the transformed concrete was lifted. “Minor damage. Tony will pay for it.”

“Not all of us have the riches of a super secret African nation. T'Challa should start footing the bill.” Tony called from behind them, examine the fallen robots more carefully. Carol looked closer at T'Challa's suit.

“Are you okay? Is that stuff dangerous?” She leaned in to take a long inhale. “It doesn't smell like anything.” The king looked at his stained uniform and shrugged.

“It was a distraction. Nothing more.” Carol stared at him longer before nodding and walking off to talk with Steve.

The Wakandan’s hands were coated in a thin layer of the cinnamon like dust. He decided to pay it no mind. T'Challa was confident in his suit’s ability to protect him from whatever toxins the powder may contain. The villain obviously meant it to be some type of weapon but low level threats like this usually made blundering mistakes. The king wouldn't have been surprised if the dust turned out to be nothing but common household nutmeg.

It didn't happen immediately but slowly the microscopic elements of the powder drained through the suit’s fabric. It was able to travel through all the layers of the “99.9% foreign material proof” cloth. As T'Challa made his way back to the Avengers Tower, the powder was absorbed into his skin, into his bloodstream, before it finally was circulating throughout his brain, changing him from the outside in.

 

* * *

  
  
Everything was hot.

His skin, which usually was comfortable in the fitted Black Panther suit, felt trapped. Everything was tight and constricting. He was breathing heavy now, mind hazy. The air was thick. Every time he took a breathe, it caught in his lungs and squeezed him from the inside out. His enhanced senses made everything worse. He could smell the sweetness that danced on everyone's skin, the perfumes, colognes, and pure natural sweat. T'Challa wanted to touch and be touched and he was drowning in this sensation.

Overwhelmed.

Depraved.

Hungry for something intangible. No...it was quite tangible and real.

Sam with his warm brown skin and playful eyes. The easy, fool hardy grin and perfectly soft lips. Sam and his big hands and full ass that begged for someone to just push into it and-

And just like that he was hard in his pants while sitting in the SHIELD meeting room. The man he was dreaming about was just across the table.

“Me and Sam have to do a patrol around Hell’s Kitchen. DareDevil said that there was some Red Skull activity down there that we should look into.”

Sam went to leave with Steve and didn't even look T'Challa's way. That hurt the king because he always wanted Sam to look at him. That thought however was invasive and something he always kept bundled down. Now a lot of ideas and feelings were stirring right under the surface ready to explode at a moment's notice. He already felt like he was running on a short fuse and watching Sam leave was made the end burn twice as hot. It took everything in him not to leap across the room and stop the man from going.

T'Challa stood up, the chair grinding loudly and cutting into the light conversation in the room. All eyes were on him(except the pair he wanted).

“I am sorry to leave so shortly. I'm needed elsewhere.” He was never so thankful for the full mask. Everyone said your goodbyes and T'Challa leaves for the tower, skin feeling as if it would boil off.  
  


* * *

 

 

Sam had a long day. Before patrolling the city with Cap, he had to look over important Avenger documents, be in meetings with the X-Men and even sit through a two hour long debrief with SHIELD. All he wanted to do now was to curl up and sleep.

But of course it wasn't that easy. There was a knock on the door just as he was slipping into his sweat pants.

“Come in.” He called, pulling his pants up and walked to the bedside table to grabbed an undershirt. The door opened slowly but Sam didn’t bother to turn around. “What’s up?’

There was no movement so the Falcon turned around slowly to face his guest. He was surprised to see T’Challa in his room. He was dressed in a black shirt and pants, bare footed and looking a tad bit out of touch.

After the king moved into the Avenger tower, they had spent more time together either watching TV or exploring the various places in New York the Wakandan had never been to. Sam appreciated T’Challa, he was easy to talk to and had a dry wit that never failed to crack Sam up. Underneath the serious, regal veneer was a humble guy who was a good friend.

“Hey, what’s up?” Sam repeated. T’Challa’s eyes were on his bare upper body, which was strange because it went against the king’s firm policy of eye contact. Sam felt a bit self conscious. He didn’t think himself as fit as the other man whose body was perfectly crafted from years of training. T’Challa licked his lips between deep breathes

“Uh...is everything okay?” Finally T’Challa pulled his eyes up from his abs to look at his face. T’Challa’s eyes were blown wide and dark. He looked like the predator of his namesake, ready to pounce at any moment. His dark brown skin was powered with a light sweat and his brow tight as if he was concentrating on something. On him.

The room was quiet and Sam’s skin started to crawl from the mere presence of the king.

“I need you.” T’Challa stated as if it was so simple and obvious. Sam chuckled nervously.

“What can I help with? Need a drink? A birdhouse? Some sagely American advice? I'm not as wise as Cap but I can tr-”

T’Challa moved forward with speed Sam has only seen him use on the battlefield. The king had Sam crowded against the bedside table, the ledge digging into the back of his legs. Their faces were inches apart and T’Challa was staring into his eyes with hot intensity. He leaned in to whisper into Sam’s ear.

“I don’t think you understand Samuel. I want you on this bed, face down and crying my name. I want your ass in the air and ready for me.” Dear lord; Sam got hard in half a second flat, his cock straining against his sweat pants. Now he was breathing hard and sweating. What had gotten into the king and what was about to get into him?

“What was in your catnip T? I think you need to sit down and see someone.” Sam tried to reason. But T’Challa moved to kiss his shoulder. The American let out a shaky sigh. “This isn’t right and you need to get some help.” Sam put his hands on his arms to push him off but was met instead with a low moan.

“Yes. Keep touching me. I want to feel you.” T’Challa slid his hands up Sam’s sides, curling around his back before traveling up to trace his shoulderblades. “I need it.”

T'Challa pressed their fronts together, their hard ons rubbing together. He moaned because of he finally felt the relief he was chasing, the heat subsiding for a moment before it it came back fifty fold.

Sam didn't have know what to do. T'Challa's breath was hot on his neck, arms holding him tight. Sam was panting- no- damn near crying. It felt so good and he wanted to melt into the sensation.

But this was wrong. T'Challa wasn't supposed to be doing this.

“Come on,” Sam pleaded and made a weak attempt to push the Wakandan off him. “You're obviously sick or something. This isn't too kingly.”

“I don't care.” T'Challa said, voice ragged. “All I can think about is you. I want to have you. My head is full of you. And I feel so drunk and dirty but good and I just…” He sighed deeply.

Sam didn't know what to do. He stood still as the king's hands ran up and down his body. Sam hissed as he grabbed the American’s ass and kneaded.

“everyday you walk past me with this cute ass,” T'Challa squeezed the object in questionfor emphasis. “and you have no idea how crazy it drives me. Or how much I want to just kiss you or….” T'Challa fucking purred into his ear. “Do you know how much I think about you? I can't get you out of my head and it's even worse now. I can't take it. Let me have you.”

Sam finally gave in because T'Challa was beautiful and needy. He pushed him gentle the man towards the bed. T'Challa fell easily and made grabby hands for him, pulling Sam on top of him.

His dick pressed into the curve of the American’s ass, firm and insistent. Sam couldn't help but grind down. Sam's own sweatpants were now a sticky mess. His cock was hard and because of his lack of boxers, it was free to tent prominently in the loose gray sweatpants.

“Thank you. I really need this. I need you.” Sam stared down at the man. He had beautiful features: sharp cheekbones and dark, smoldering eyes that seemed to shine. His lips were pouty and kissable so Sam bent down and kissed him.

T'Challa moaned into his mouth. His arms snaked back around Sam. He touched his abs, ghosting his long fingers up and down the muscles. Their tongues twisted together as the kiss got deeper. Their teeth clashed a bit as they tried to find the perfect angle.

When Sam pulled away his lips felt swollen and tingly. T'Challa looked up at his as if Sam was a gift from God.

“You don't know how often I think about doing that.” He trailed his bare hands up to touch Sam's pecs. He gently rubbed his thumb on the dark nipples before him, making Sam curse. Sam hated how sensitive his chest was and when he let out a low moan at the feeling, T'Challa knew he found gold. He pressed on the nubs harder now, clearly loving how they pebbled under his touch.

“Don't do that.” Sam protested, voice weak. T'Challa continued and moved to pinch them. Sam let out a long groan. He twisted each of them and tested different ways he could roll them between his fingers. T'Challa pulled himself up and shifted Sam back to rest on his thighs. With a wet, rough tongue he licked Sam's right nipple.

“Oh god…”

T'Challa didn't stop. He sucked on it and continued to squeeze the other. He gently ran his teeth over it and Sam was a writhing mess in his arms. His chest felt tight and raw. The abuse left him reeling but it didn't stop him from pushing up into the mouth. T'Challa moved to the other side and gave it the same attention.

Sam finally moved to hold his cock. The cotton of his pants made a warm friction. He squeezed it and played with it until he pulled it free. Sam wasn't one to brag but he felt like his dick was well proportioned and nice. He slowly pumped it, using the the precum to slick the way. T'Challa leaned back watch.

“Keep going. Show me how you do it when you're alone.” His voice sounded so desperate, completely different from the usual cool confidence. He grinding his hard cock into Sam's ass, holding him at the angle he needed.

Sam could only nod dumbly. He licked his palm before he started to stroke in earnest. It felt so good and knowing T'Challa's eyes were on him heated him up. The king grinded into his ass harder, bucking his hips up. He moved with Sam's strokes and moved between his cheeks. Sam was never thought going commando would pay off like this. He brought his other hand up to take out his balls and fondle them. He throw his head back, twisting tightly around his cock. He finally spilled over his hand and a bit shot out and landed on T'Challa's otherwise clean shirt. T'Challa himself gave a loud gasp before cumming in his pants.

They stared at each other as they basked in the afterglow of their orgasms. The crazed, desperate look in the king's eyes finally subsided and turned sleepy. T'Challa slowly moved Sam off of him, placing him on the other side of the mattress. Sam scrambled to get up and look at him.

“Are you okay?” He asked but T'Challa was already asleep. He was slumbering deeply, looking almost angelic with his shirt stained with Sam's cum.

The African American was thoroughly confused now that the frenzy of the moment was gone. All that was left was Sam, his thoughts, and a sleeping king.

Sighing, Sam changed his pants but didn't bother to put on a shirt. He flopped in the other side of the bed and decided to handle whatever that just went down in the morning.

A few hours late Sam was woken up by T'Challa who was trying to make a speedy escape. He froze when he realized the Sam was staring at him in the dark.

“That...was a mistake.” The king said, voice shaking. He couldn't even look at the American. Sam moved to get off the bed but T'Challa retreated further into the darkness.

“You come into my room, ask for sex, cum in your pants, fall asleep, and then say it was a mistake when you wake up?” Sam said incredulously. “I think you owe me more than that your highness.” He spat. T'Challa didn't say anything for a moment.

“I was possessed. It was...I can't explain it. I would never do this. That.” He hung his head down in shame. “I'm sorry.”

“I don't want sorry I want to make sure you are okay. This whole thing got out of control fast. We need to talk-” But T'Challa had already decided what he was going to do.

“I need to go.” T'Challa muttered but Sam crawled across the bed to grab him. The other man pulled back at the contact as if Sam was dirty, as if he had not just not came into his bedroom moaning for sex.

“T'Challa…”

“This shouldn't have happened… I wasn't- you aren't supposed to- I can't be here.”

“Was sex with me that bad?” Sam joked but the humor fell flat. The king was amused.

“That wasn't sex! That was a mistake. You and me aren't supposed to be like this.”

“You came to me!”

“I know and I don't even know why. That wasn't me. I would never-”

“Sleep with someone like me.” The American finished.

“I'm leaving.” He said coolly before leaving. The door closing sounded louder than it really was in the resounding silence.

Sam was left dumbfounded. The Wakandan always had a place in Sam's heart for several reasons. T'Challa was the richest man on earth and lead the most powerful country ever all while being unapologetically Black. He was proud of his people and race and never shied away from racial conflict in the way Sam did. T'Challa was so generous and wise,always looking for the next person to help. He was calm, cool, and collected all the time. He was the epitome of self control. T'Challa was kind and gracious despite all his power and wealth. He seemed unbelievable at times. Too good to be true. With all of this, T'Challa found Sam interesting. Him, the ex-con from Harlem. The king and him could talk all night about anything. T'Challa was never boring even in silence which would happen from time to time. When those quiet moments came, they would just soak in each other's company while reading or watching a show. Sam liked spending time with the king who had a way about him that made everyone around him feel as if they too were royalty.

Then this happened and everything Sam once thought was shattered. Now, Sam was T'Challa's biggest mistake to date. Now, T'Challa was disgusted with himself for even touching Sam. Now, Sam was sitting in his room shirtless, nipples still pulsing with abuse, skin washed in a light sweat, and tired as fuck. Everything had gotten away from him and T'Challa had left with the last bit of sense he had.

* * *

 

T'Challa wasn't hiding. The Black Panther didn't hide or cower. The Black Panther did however make strategic retreats to regroup and think.

Soon after he left Sam's room he went straight to the Wakandan embassy and took the next flight home. He was in Wakanda in six hours flat. He stormed into the palace.

“Take this,” he tossed his suit to the nearest servant. “and send it to the labs. Inside and out, I need it scanned. Every single foreign fiber needs to be analyzed and collected.” One of the Dora Milaje, a girl from a southern tribe named Nakkazi, came up to him with a concerned expression.

“Your highness, is something wrong?” Even though T'Challa was in a new outfit he still felt dirty and ashamed.

“Please have someone draw me a bath. Then tell everyone that I want to be left alone.” She nodded, clearly still curious to his mood, but left quietly to fulfill the request.

By the time he was in his bathroom, the bath was set: steamy air with the scent of roses. He stripped but still felt disgusting. He slipped into the perfectly warmed water but he still felt sullied. What he did with Sam was...He was appalled at his own behavior.

T'Challa wasn't vain but he knew he was attractive and people came to proposition him all the time. He never had to beg for sex. Knowing what he just did made him want to sink under the bath water and never come up for air. He has never been so embarrassed and angry at himself.

Whatever that man sprayed made him go crazy. On his ancestors he would never do that. That word “never” kept coming up in his mind but he knew that wasn't necessarily true. It should have happened under more natural circumstances: Sam would smile and fall into his arms without persistent begging. He would be able to see T'Challa's inner feelings that he kept under the surface and all the words that he had saved would sound sweet, not slurred with desperation.

He was disgusted at himself for ruining the friendship he created with Sam. When he was with the American, he felt as if he could do or say anything without worrying about maintaining an image. He and Sam would go down to Harlem and he would show him his old neighborhood. They would sit in the back of Sam's father’s church and he would tell T'Challa about the man who died fighting for what he believed in. They would go on top of the tower and T'Challa would exchange stories of his father's bravery.

Christianity and the Panther Cult had a lot of similarities but even more differences. T'Challa had never met an American who was honestly interested in learning about his religion that he held so dear. Westerners seemed to believe that it was just a silly superstition based on fantasy stories. He remembered when Sam told him a year ago: “What makes praying to your God any different than mine? I mean, Jesus walked on water and then turned it to wine. I don't think you can get any crazier.” T'Challa appreciated it more than the other probably knew.

Sam introduced him to ‘chillin’. His job was serious but Sam would get him from the paperwork and play Call of Duty or basketball. He also introduced him to a bunch of American movies T'Challa would have never pick on his own.

Sam was smiles and laughs and stupid jokes. He was everything that T'Challa wasn't and couldn't be. He was a breath of fresh air and T'Challa ruined their friendship with his untapped lust.

Another deep sigh and T'Challa slide deeper into the water. It was warm and fragrant. As he closed his eyes, his muscles loosened in the pool. His mind, already on Sam, drifted to more indecent thoughts. T'Challa was again disgusted with himself but he couldn't help it. He remembered Sam's firm, full ass pressed against his erection. The soft moans he gave when his nipples were touched.

Just like that T'Challa was hard again. His hand slipped towards his dick, ready to relieve the pressure he felt. It wasn't as bad as last time, nothing would be as bad as last time, but he still was wanting.

“Call from: Medical Lab.” Said the electronic voice in the ceiling. T'Challa cursed under his breathe. He took his hand off his cock so he could respond properly.

“Answer.”

The holographic screen appear in front of him. A scientist, Tendaji, stood in front of him in a white lab coat and goggles.

“Sorry to disturb you your highness.”

“It's fine. Tell me what you found.” Tendaji sent him another hologram screen showing a molecular breakdown of some compound.

“The brown substance on your suit seemed to be an inhibitor that would work to turn on a person's ‘hindbrain’, causing them to act on the inner desires with no forethought. There are some aphrodisiac properties to the formula but it does not seem to be inherently sexual in design.” He informed. T'Challa sat up fully. The wave of nausea came back. He didn't have to sex with Sam. That was his deepest desire coming unleashed.

“I see…”

“I don't know if it is within my position to ask but, were you affected at all by this? If so I belie-” The king cut him off.

“You thought correctly; it is not in your position to ask. I need you to make a counter compound based on neural prohibitory receptors to neutralize the effects.”

“Understood.”

“Good work, you are dismissed.” With that the live feed ended leaving T'Challa again alone in the tub.

“Call W'Kabi.” He said out loud. The room’s inner systems fulfilled the request and his advisor was contacted. Within seconds he answered.

“Yes T'Challa? Are you okay?” T'Challa paused for a moment.

“I'm fine now.”

“We- I was worried. Some Dora Milaje were very concerned about you.”

“It's okay. I need you to contact the Avengers Headquarters and tell them to send the latest prisoner captured yesterday in upstate New York o the Wakandan embassy. He will be trialed here.”

“Right away. Can I ask why?”

“He poisoned me. This is a direct attempt on the life of a foreign leader and will be persecuted as such.” W'Kabi stared at him for a while. He took in his tense features and gathered the seriousness of the situation.

“I'll handle it. Enjoy your bath.” He said. Before he cut the feed, he added a final comment. “ I am not sure what happened but I want you to know that you can come to me. I am the head of military but I am also a friend.” His voice was soft and T'Challa couldn't help but smile.

“I know. I appreciate that. I…what happened isn't something I am proud of and I am still thinking of ways to make amends.”

“You are wise beyond your years T'Challa. I'm sure you will come to the right answer.” W'Kabi ended the video chat.

The king was left alone with his thoughts, frustrations, and worries. A stupid man had ruined him. He had trained his whole life for the unexpected but this incident was inconceivable. Now he was dumbfounded and aching for a way to take it all back.

 

* * *

 

“We have a problem.” Steve said darkly. He had called a meeting with all the Avengers but Sam immediately noticed one African warrior was missing.

“I don't know if you all have been updated but thirty three hours ago Iron Man, Captain Marvel, Black Panther, and myself had captured a former Stark Industry employee, James Milburn now going under the alias of ‘The Liberator’.” Tony sucked his teeth. “The operation went well with no casualties but the Wakandan Embassy contacted us yesterday and demanded we hand over the Liberator into their custody.”

“To do what?” Natasha asked. Steve’s frown only deepened.

“Apparently they are going to try him for poisoning a foreign dignitary.” There was a gasp of shock throughout the group.

“Is there any precedent?” Carol asked. Eyes fell to She-Hulk who worked as an attorney in her day to day life. Jennifer sighed.

“Yes. Technically. But if he does this then any villain who did anything to him could be tried under the same clause. It's ridiculous. And can be taken out of hand. Next Doom is going to be saying that anyone who attacks him is violating his diplomatic immunity and we have enough of red tape around him as it is. Why is he doing this?”

Sam felt a rock form in his stomach. He knew why. Whatever that poison was, it made T'Challa do the things he did last night. And he wasn't happy about it because apparently making him have sex with Sam was something so horrible it was enough to arrest a man.

“Did you give him over?” Natasha questioned. Steve nodded, clearly a bit ashamed.

“We had no other choice. They came with a small army. I have called T'Challa in to talk about it but he refused.”

“I think I know why…” Jan said slowly. “Look.” She turned on the news station which showed a flock of reporters pushing microphones into a Wakandan ambassador’s face. The bar at the bottom read “Technologically advance African country makes big announcement”.

“Thank you for joining us. We have Leslie on the field ready to hear what the new announce is all about. Wakanda, as some may know, is a very closed off country which refused to share its numerous innovations with the world. We rarely get any news from them so whatever is being said must be very important. I'm getting word that they have begun. Going live now…”

The Wakandan ambassador was dressed in a traditional headdress and robes, flanked by two Dora Milaje. He stood out against the swarms of men and women in western suits. He spoke clearly into the large microphone heads stationed at the podium.

“After much consideration and in light of recent attacks against our leader, the government of Wakanda has decided to make a complete withdrawal from the west, reversing out ties with all other countries. We will be returning to our closed border policies and cutting off communication for the time being. We have talked with other world leaders and aside from a global catastrophe, Wakanda will be on an international contact blackout We do this with heavy hearts but it's in the best interest of our people. We hope to reopen communications soon.”

The crowd went crazy. Luke dropped his coffee mug on the ground. The Avengers meeting room was silent.

“Sir! Sir! How will this affect the Black Panther's place as an Avenger? Will he continue to be a superhero?”

“The Black Panther has decided to honorably resign from the organization. We are taking no more questions. Thank you.”

The group of reporters pressed on, following the three Wakandans to their jet, demanding answers. Sam was the first to come out of his shock.

“Fucking coward.” Now the surprised looks turned to him. “Call him. Call T'Challa.”

“Sam did something happen-” Steve started but he was cut off by the ex-parachuter.

“JARVIS call T'Challa now.”

“Okay Mr. Wilson.” Tony made a comment about not ordering JARVIS around but Sam was boiling in fury and paid it no mind.

“Sam what's going on?” Natasha asked, her natural spy instincts burning for information. Everything didn't make sense and everyone was confused.

The phone rung and on the third chime he answered. He had his Black Panther mask on and sat at his throne. Sam wanted to jump through the screen and strangle him.

“What the fuck?” Sam said because that perfectly encapsulated his demands. “We saw the news! Why would you-”

“I did not want you all to find out like that. I was hoping I could do it in person.” T'Challa stated.

“I don't understand.” Tony exclaimed. “This does not making any sense. Explain what happened with that stupid villain. Why are you taking him, why are you closing off Wakanda?”

“After all the progress we've made integrating you guys into the rest of the world, you want to pull back on all of that?” Jan said, her eyes watery. The king was clearly upset under the mask.

“I have made a decision that I cannot live with. I am not fit to be in the same team as you all. I have shamed my country and need to reestablish who I am.” T'Challa stated.

“So you're running away.” Sam was livid. He never expected a one night stand to cause an international action.

“I am not...Samuel. I apologize. My decision has...interfered with my judgement and I can no longer stand next to you as an honorable man.” This caused more confusion.

“Sam what is he talking about?” Steve asked, moving closer to his friend. The African American had little care for all the eyes on him that burned with questions.

“You are a coward.”

“I am-”

“You are a coward! You can't leave it like this!” Now Sam was yelling, letting out the emotions that boiled in him since he woke up.

“I have made my decision. And I believe it's for the best for the team.” T'Challa replied, trying to remind unphased by Sam's scathing tone.

“You did what's best for you. Go run back to your little empire where you're king and can control everything and everyone.” Sam said. The Wakandan furrowed his brow but Sam pushed on. “And you go and pretend like it never happened. Steve gave you that stupid guy and you'll probably have him killed because he did something you can't stand: made the oh so holy Black Panther lose control.”

Somewhere off camera there was shouting in Swahili. Someone must have moved to come on screen but T'Challa stopped them with a hand to vault. On the Avengers’ side, the room was still except for Sam who was still shaking with raw emotion.

No one spoke for a long time.

“Goodbye Avengers.” T'Challa said and the feed promptly cut off.

“So are you going to explain that or…?” Clint asked cautiously, unsure of how to proceed in this unprecedented situation. Sam and T'Challa were the least likely members to get into this type of public argument. Sam just shook his head.

“This isn't anything more to say.” Sam left through the room.

“There is so much to say!” Tony said quietly as the door slammed shut.

 

* * *

 

Sam decided to go for a fly. He was up in the air, wings stretched, the warm sun beating on his back. The wind was crisp and sliced at his face as he flew. Redwing was at his side.

He flew for hours with no real destination or purpose. The only thing that was on his mind was T'Challa and his ‘mistake’. How sleeping with Sam was the biggest shame of his life. That wanting Sam was so terrible he had to resign from the Avengers. It was clear that T'Challa's desire, his need, for Sam was disgusting and shameful. That it was something to hide because how could someone want him?

And that thought hurt the most: T'Challa thought that wanting him was something to run away from. T'Challa ran from nothing. He has seen him fight things that no one but a god could handle. The king did so unflinching and fearless but the thought of waking up next to Sam turn this same brave man into coward.

The Falcon picked up speed and looped around a skyscraper. It would have been better if he could write this off as a one night stand gone wrong but it was hard to do that when the sight of the other man made him weak in the knees. Sam liked T'Challa and wanted the Wakandan to like him. But this whole thing destroyed any chance of that, killing the blooming feelings before they even got off the ground.

Sam went straight up, going as high as he dared. The air thinned out around him and for a moment he paused in the upper atmosphere. For that one moment frozen in the bitter air, his mind cleared. Thoughts of love and hate and anger melted and Sam became truly numb. He felt Redwing reach out to him mentally but he pushed the connection away. He was trapped in this point where he and his wings became one with the air and sky. He was limitless singularity finally at rest from all the drama miles below him.

Then he dropped.

 

* * *

 

“How dare he?” W’kabi yelled. “You are not some...some commoner on the street.”

T'Challa just had his head down. He never felt more defeated. His advisers and guards continued to yell around him.

“Americans are so egotistical. As if anything he could ever do could compare to the Black Panther!” N’Gassi spat. “How do you want to respond your highness?”

“Let it be.” Everyone stared at him incredulously.

“How could you say that?” Okoye asked. “Disrespect towards the Black Panther is a slap in the face to all of Wakanda. He cannot get away with this.”

T'Challa slowly rose from his throne.

“He is right. I am a coward.” The king pulled off his mask and threw it down. “Call Shuri. I'm retiring to my chambers. Until further notice she will be the acting Black Panther.”

N’Gassi and W’Kabi looked terrorized.

“Your highness please think before acting! The thoughts of that westerner does not hold any weight. You are our people's’ greatest warrior.”

T'Challa just shook his head and pushed past the people that would support him in murder and death. Sam's words swirled in his head, their weight pulled him down towards a personal hell. His morals, his ideals, and everything he work towards felt shattered.

Who was he now without those pillars of honor? The walkways of the palace he grew up in, knew every corner of, felt foreign. He was lost internally. He returned to his room out of muscle memory. He could see straight out through the balcony when we walked in, the Golden City shining into his room.

This was his kingdom, his empire. The strongest empire in the history of the world but T'Challa's body was devoid of all that strength. He felt nothing and everything simultaneously. His body was imploding in on itself. He went to the foot of the bed.

Then he dropped.

 

* * *

 

Weeks after Wakanda shut itself off from the outside once again, Sam has almost forgotten about T'Challa, the feel of his lips on his skin, the heat of his eyes, and the weight of his hard on pressed firmly against his.

Almost.

The other Avengers had long stopped trying to coax out more information from him about the incident. Steve told everyone to leave him alone especially since T'Challa's people returned James Milburn without explanation.

Everything continued as usual: they went on missions, defeated the bad guys, and saved the day. He went on his usual patrols with Steve and watched tv with the others in the communal lounge. The Black Panther’s place was filled by Captain Britain who was more than happy to take the job. Everything returned to normal and Sam was almost happy.

Then the calls started.

T'Challa called him every other day or so. Sam never answered. He didn't ignore the call but instead let the ring play out until it went to voicemail. He had turned T'Challa's ringtone to a series of cat meows a year ago. At the time he thought it was funny. He remember the harsh glare the king gave him when he showed him but T'Challa just returned the favor and mad Sam's ringtone a bunch of bird chirps. Now ringtone was a grating reminder of the relationship that was destroyed.

He listened to the first few voicemails the Wakandan had left. His voice was haggard and rough. He wanted to see Sam. He wanted to apologize in person and explain himself. He wanted Sam to call him back when he got the chance. After a while, he just deleted them without listening.

The calls started to come less and less until after a month, they stopped coming at all. Sam didn't want to admit it but he missed T'Challa calling even though he never answered. He was still angry at T'Challa. He was angry at himself. Why couldn't he just go and tell him that drunken night meant nothing to him? T'Challa could have still been an Avenger. They could have pretended it was a mistake and forgotten about it. They could have still been friends.

But Sam didn't want to forget about it because in the throngs of passion, he thought he felt something like love. He didn't want to forget because he thought that maybe T'Challa sought him out from everyone else because of feelings and the stuff he said about “wanting this forever” were true.

Sam was sitting in the kitchen looking out the window from his seat at the island bar. The lights were off but the lights of the tower and the New York skyline made it just bright enough to be comfortable. He took slow sips of something...he forgot what he had poured. Overall, this was a good brooding atmosphere.

Someone walked in and turned on the light, forcing the American to squint at the sudden brightness.

“I'm trying to set a mood here.” Sam drawled.

“Sorry to spoil it.” Luke Cage shot back with no malice in his voice. He pulled up a seat to sit next to the Falcon. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Sam answered before taking another sip of his drink. He didn't take his eyes off the skyline.

“You know-”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Good because I'm doing the talkin’. And you're gonna listen.” Luke said definitively. He turned to Sam and Sam looked up at him. He was called Power Man for a reason, Luke was a hulking mass of a man despite being a big softie off the battlefield. He had a good fifty pounds on Sam as well as a few inches and like T'Challa his presence demanded recognition.

“I don't know what happened and I don't want to know. That's y'all’s business. But whatever happened, it hurt T'Challa bad. He isn't the type to run away from something. I've actually never seen him run away from anything. Ever. So what happened with you made him scared enough to run.” Sam opened his mouth but Luke just talked over him “I'm not blamin’ you. You're my friend as much as he is and I see you like this, sittin’ here in the dark drinking- what is this rum? He stepped down as Black panther.”

Sam's eyes went wide in shock at that. Being the Black Panther was everything T'Challa had ever wanted. It was the only goal on his mind since he was old enough to talk.

“Yeah. Exactly. He won't tell me what happened but it messed him up. And I know you didn't answer his calls and now all he does is mediate all day and night. I don't what he did but he is really sorry about it. Sorry enough that he thinks he doesn't deserve being the one thing he was made to do. I don't know if you know this but you mean the world to him. I can't force you to do nothin’ but please, just talk to him?” Luke pleaded and the man never pleads.

They sat in silence for a moment before Sam downed the last of the rum. He stood up with Luke's eyes on him waiting for an answer but Sam didn't reply. Instead he left Luke and the empty glass in the kitchen.

**Author's Note:**

> Nice ending right? I might make a sequel/second chapter to resolve this because I love happy endings but this ending just stuck with me.


End file.
